


The Lady and Her Knight

by the_dread_e



Series: Tokens of Gingerbread [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Food as Love Language, Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), xena levels of historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dread_e/pseuds/the_dread_e
Summary: Crowley gets word that a certain angel will be participating in a joust. She decides to make him a treat from scratch for luck.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Tokens of Gingerbread [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038506
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	The Lady and Her Knight

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was minding my business one day, watching the Great British Baking Show, when they cut to a brief interlude about the history of gingerbread. When they mentioned that it would sometimes be given as a token from a lady to her knight, the idea just kind of latched onto my brain and wouldn't let go. This is the first of several stories that have gingerbread as love language.   
> This is my first work in the Good Omens space. Hope you enjoy!

‘Is this all of it?’ Crowley asked. She let the exasperation bleed through her question. The small bag she held pinched between her long fingers barely weighed anything. She shook it once in front of the page’s face.

‘My lady, it was terribly expensive. I-I-I didn’t want to…there were other things chef needed me to buy at the market, and he gets very cross if I don’t bring him exactly what he wants back.’ The boy said. 

‘Does he now?’ Crowley raised an eyebrow and regarded the teen. She sensed no malice – being a demon, one could sense that sort of thing- and only felt his panic at heading back down to the kitchens without the root vegetables Chef Liam had insisted on. ‘Why don’t we go down and have a chat with him, eh?’

‘As you wish, my lady.’ The boy said. He looked a bit less panicked as he led the way towards the first floor.

Crowley tossed the small parcel in the air before catching it. Even as small as the package was, its pungent scent still wafted in the air. Crowley wasn’t particularly partial to ginger herself, but earlier that week she had been at a gathering of other ladies of court. Normally, she engaged in their gossiping only to foment the seeds of jealousy and greed among them, but this time she’d heard one of the women mention she’d given a token of gingerbread to a knight she hoped would court her. Not realizing that was a thing that was done, Crowley had wedged herself beside this woman and wrung every last detail out of her.

Not for any particular reason. Not that she knew a particular angelic knight would be coming into the city to compete in a jousting tourney in a few day’s time. Not that she was trying to impress him not only with a rare and expensive gift, but something said knight could nibble on while thinking of her. 

Nope. None of that at all.

No, Antonia Crowley was just your run of the mill demon posing as a lady of court to tempt the faithful from God’s light. She didn’t spend any of her copious amounts of free time thinking about anyone.

(Convinced? Of course, you are.)

‘What’s your name, boy?’ Crowley asked. Anything to distract from her thoughts.

‘Crispin, my lady.’

‘No need to be so formal when its just you and I.’ 

‘Sorry, my lady.’

Crowley chuckled. ‘So, Crispin? Is your name why you find yourself helping in the kitchen?’

The boy’s cheeks flushed. ‘My mum says that my name means ‘curly’, but people tend to think it’s something to do with frying.’

Crispin did have a tangle of sandy brown curls. Mother must have been psychic or very sure of the strength of her family’s genes to declare her kid’s hair style before the kid had any hair.   
‘And what is it you help with?

‘Mostly just help with the shopping. Chef Liam isn’t too keen on having anyone touch his things.’

Crowley considered that for a moment. ‘Well, technically, they aren’t his things.’ She set her hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiled as they stopped before the heavy wooden door that opened into the kitchen. ‘They’re mine.’ 

The boy cracked a smile as Crowley winked. She pushed open the door. 

The hearth in the kitchen always blazed brightly. It didn’t seem to matter if there was enough firewood. Crowley had lived in the estate for nearly ten years at this point and liked the home warm. The servants figured the wood gathered from the surrounding forest was just denser than others. They didn’t question it too much. The less firewood they had to haul the better, and the warmth spread not only through the main house, but the servants’ cottages as well. The kitchen hearth burned hottest. The chef had his back to them as he fussed with whatever fowl had been selected for Crowley’s dinner that evening. To keep up appearances, Crowley ate a bit around the humans, but never very much. Whatever elaborate feasts the chef would cook up were usually shared with the rest of her household. 

‘Chef?’ Crispin said. He winced before the word was out of his mouth. Crowley noticed and pursed her lips.

‘I thought I told you to make sure you didn’t leave any dirty dishes lying around upstairs, boy!’ The chef shouted. He didn’t bother to turn around. ‘Stop fussing about the kitchen and get the hell—’

Crowley snapped her fingers and cut off the chef’s speech. He turned and flashed a brilliant shade of red.

‘My Lady Antonia!’ 

‘Is this the way you greet everyone that enters here? Or just the child that’s been assigned to make your duties easier?’

Crowley kept herself from cruelly smiling as the chef flushed an even deeper crimson. Her features remained neutral and fierce. 

‘That question wasn’t rhetorical.’ She said. 

‘Um…of course, my lady….I was only…’

‘Only sputtering out some nonsense when you should be apologizing for your outburst and continued abuse of Crispin here.’

Crowley felt the boy shrink behind her. She gently pressed her hand to his back and pushed him out into the open. 

‘Now, are you immortal, Liam?’ 

‘N-no, ma’am.’

‘I thought not,’ Crowley said. ‘So then you will not be around forever to cook for the ladies and lords that may come to live in this house should I chose to pass on. Is that a safe assumption?’

‘Ye…yes?’

‘Then you should be teaching someone who is eager to learn to cook as well as you do.’

The compliment gave the chef pause. Crowley felt his simmering annoyance cool slightly. She hadn’t been lying. She was hardly the culinary connoisseur the angel was, but she knew what she liked.

‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ he said after a moment.

‘Oh, that wasn’t a request, chef. If you’d like to remain in my employ, you’ll teach Crispin. Might give you some free time to relieve some of that pent up stress of yours. I can’t have you exploding any time this door opens.’

The chef dared a glare at Crispin, but the boy responded with a confident smile. 

‘Now that that’s sorted, do we have any ginger in my stores,’ Crowley asked as she held up the small parcel. ‘I’ve got it in my mind to make some gingerbread, and I’m not sure this will be enough.’

The chef took a second to process the shift in conversation before scratching at his hair line. ‘I believe there is still some from the pie I made last week.’ He turned to face the cupboards on the opposite wall, before calling over his shoulder. ‘May as well follow, boy. I’ll show you where I keep the veg and grain and the spices.’

Crowley indulged in a moment of self-satisfaction as she watched the chef walk Crispin through the pantry. She held the packet of ginger to her nose and inhaled. It was strong, but she really wanted to make sure that the flavor was pronounced and present. Crowley didn’t do a whole lot of baking. She was pretty sure the closest to cooking she’d ever been was enjoying the angel indulge himself. He’d close his eyes at the first taste to a dish and sigh with delight as he worked his way through it. Crowley felt her cheeks blush at the thought of something she made from scratch receiving a similar reaction. 

Crowley had crawled out of her fantasies as Crispin and the chef returned. The chef held up a knobby root.

‘Thought I had some dried but found a bit of the fresh stuff. Will that suit? What were you looking to have made, my lady?’

Crowley had no idea. ‘Should? If that’s all we have, then needs must.’

‘I can make fresh work. What did you want it for?’

‘I’ll be making some gingerbread,’ Crowley said, miracling the rising blush from her face. ‘For a friend.’

She must not have been fast enough, because Crispin’s face exploded into a shit-eating grin. The boy must have been present for the last time she’d hosted Sir Aziraphale. Once the angel sat down to eat, Crowley could hardly keep the adoration from shining out of every pore. 

‘I don’t mean to presume, my lady, but do you…um…do you know how to cook?’

Crowley, in fact, did not. Knowledge was not a hard thing to obtain. She only had to grab the tree by the apple and pull.

‘Haven’t the faintest idea, but Lady Morgan shared her recipe with me. If she could make it, then I’m sure it isn’t too hard.’

‘I wouldn’t mind helping, my lady,’ Crispin finally spoke up once he tamed his smile. ‘I’ve help mum bake for the holiday.’

‘Would be a good opportunity for the boy to learn his way around the kitchen.’

Crowley eyed Liam. He clearly wasn’t comfortable giving up what he perceived as his domain to someone who was liable to burn the whole estate down, demonic nature notwithstanding. However, she only had a small store of ginger. She could always miracle more, but miracled food never tasted as good as the real thing. Some help might not be the worst idea.

‘Alright then,’ she said. ‘If you both insist, I’ll change into something I won’t mind getting breadcrumbs on. Need some of those, and cloves, pepper, and honey. And the ginger. Obviously.’

‘We’ll have the ingredients out be the time you return, ma’am.’

Crowley nodded once and headed for her chambers. Her spectacle’s lens fogged as she left the humid warmth of the kitchen. She tried to remember if she had any ratty looking gowns. Her armoire knew to keep her swaddled in the up to the minute fashions in the finest fabrics. If anything, she would just change into something with shorter sleeves. Didn’t want any errant fabric fibers sullying her angel’s treat. 

Pressing her way into her room, Crowley wondered if Aziraphale would clock it as anything but a treat. He’d been at court enough. Participated in a fair number tourneys as well on orders from upstairs. Something about keeping the humans humble. Either way, he must know the significance. 

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Crowley muttered as she flung open her armoire, ‘It’s a treat. He’ll enjoy it, and if that’s all, that’s fine.’

It wouldn’t be, but Crowley was lying to herself. For thousands of years, she’d been searching for a subtle way to broach the unbroachable with the angel. This seemed just small enough to work. Insignificant enough and easy to brush off.

‘Haven’t you got anything that would be appropriate for getting my hands dirty? You know, gardening, baking, that sort of thing?’

Crowley reached as far back as she could and pulled out a plain shift. 

‘That’s just the ticket.’

She changed quickly and braided her wavy red hair twice as fast. With a snap of her fingers it was out of her face and off her neck. She left her chambers and leisurely strolled back down to the kitchen, ignoring the looks from the servants she passed on the way. 

Before she entered, Crowley grabbed a yellowing parchment from thin air. Wouldn’t do to show up without a recipe. 

Liam was helping Crispin lift a metal cauldron into the hearth. 

‘Little higher. Just there,’ he said. ‘Take that rake and pull some coals out of the fire. We’ll need to clarify that honey.’

‘I believe that is one of the first instructions here,’ Crowley swanned into the room and set the parchment on the large butcher block table. ‘Says to clarify the honey and skim off any scum that floats to the top.’

Crispin peered at the recipe, ‘If you don’t mind my saying, Lady Crowley, I think we could fancy up the recipe a bit. Since it’s for a friend.’

Crowley glared at the boy as he flashed that grin again, ‘And what, young master chef, would you add?’

‘Mum’s saved up before to buy a bit of cinnamon for the holiday. I really like it. Maybe a bit of that?’

‘Boy’s got a point, my lady,’ Liam said. He was cutting up a few loaves of bread from yesterday. ‘I’ve got the breadcrumbs sorted. You…Crispin. Grab the cinnamon and some of the clove while you’re in there. We can crush up a bit of that too.’

With a satisfied smirk, Crispin ran for the pantry. Crowley nodded to the chef and set about clarifying the honey. The scum she scooped off looked like something that slipped off Hastur. 

‘How long does this need to go, then?’

The chef pushed away from his pile of breadcrumbs and waved the steam away from over the cauldron. He held his hand out for Crowley’s ladle and gave the heated honey a stir. 

‘It’s looking nice and thick,’ he said. ‘Give it another moment, then we can add the bread. Crispin, go grab a tray. They’re stacked just under the pots.’

The boy trotted back to help chef pull the cauldron from over the fire. They both lifted it onto the butcher block and watched Crowley expectantly. She scooped up the breadcrumbs and jerked her head at Crispin.

‘Start mixing, yeah?’

The boy pulled over a stool and took the long spoon that the chef offered. He stepped up and began stirring the mix. Crowley streamed in the crumbs and watched as the mixture began to thicken. 

‘Spices,’ Crowley ordered. ‘But save some of the ginger! If we cock this up, I want a back up.’

Crispin passed her the cinnamon, cloves, and ginger he’d pulled from the cupboard. Crowley dumped all the ginger but deferred to chef when it came to the other spices. 

‘Try a bit of pepper as well, ma’am,’ Liam suggested. ‘It will give an extra hint of heat.’

‘Is that what you did with that pie last week?’

He smiled and tapped the side of his nose. 

‘A pinch of pepper it is then.’

The three of them gathered around the cauldron and watched as the specks dissolved into the honey mixture.

Crowley nibbled on the inside of her cheek. No doubt if this went wrong she could send Crispin into town to buy some gingerbread. It would suffice. Aziraphale would still appreciate it.   
But that just wouldn’t do, would it? Crowley needed it to be homemade. She needed to be the one to make it. Sure, she had some help, but she didn’t want to get overly technical. She’d sat beside the honey as it cooked. She’d tended to it. She measured out the bread and decided on the spice with some assistance. Surely that effort would translate to a tastier bake? Didn’t some idiot poet somewhere at some point in all blasted creation say the secret ingredient was always love?

Oh.

Crowley came back to herself, realizing that she had been staring into the cauldron too long. Her sous chefs were exchanging glances, either about to ask if she was alright. She should push that pesky emotion back into the little ball she kept in her corporation’s guts. Best to deal with it another time. 

‘My lady?’

‘Went away there for a moment,’ Crowley laughed. It didn’t sound forced at all. She adjusted her spectacles to give her something to do with her hands. 

The chef nodded. ‘You had another parcel of ginger? Did you still want to save it?’

‘Yes on both counts.’

Crowley pulled the bag from her pocket and gave it a gentle toss. Was it foolish to save it? This could be her last chance to share such a token with the angel. She’d been here for years. Head office could send someone tomorrow with a new assignment halfway across the globe. Same for Aziraphale. 

‘You’ve gone away again, my lady,’ Crispin prompted. 

‘Lost in thought, me.’ 

‘Maybe give it a taste?’

Crowley eyed the boy. 

‘I’m sure it delicious, my lady,’ he grinned again. ‘Your sir will love it!’

The kid had her number. Not like she was being subtle. Liam was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about his employer’s matters of the heart. The kid hadn’t developed that particular tact muscle just yet. She let her mouth twitch into a barely-there smirk. She held out her hand and curled her finger. The chef saw and immediately provided her with a clean tasting spoon. She dipped it into the mix and blew on it before tasting it. 

‘Needs more ginger,’ she decided. She didn’t want to throw all her eggs in this one basket, but if this was the shot she had, it was worth using all. ‘Ngk. Fine.’ She pulled open the parcel and let the contents slip into the mixture. 

‘Don’t want it to get too cool,’ the chef said. ‘Give it one last good mix, and we’ll get it poured onto the tray.’

‘You heard him. Give it a go.’

Crispin nodded and swirled the spoon vigorously through the mixture. Satisfied, he looked over to the chef. They both lifted the cauldron and began to spoon the mixture onto the tray. Crowley kept her spoon and used it to even everything out.

‘There we are,’ Liam said. He set down the pot and bobbed his head. ‘Once it’s cooled, we can slice it into squares.’

‘Don’t think I can wait that long to try it,’ Crowley said. She dragged one long finger along the edge of the tray. It tasted divine. ‘Not all that sure about square cuts either.’

‘Triangles, then?’

‘Was thinking something a bit more customized.’

‘Ah, well then. Shall we leave you to it?’

‘No need to leave. I don’t want to interfere with dinner. Might go for a walk while it cools.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on the tray for you, my lady,’ Crispin said. ‘Keep it in a dry place in the cupboard so it cools properly.’

Crowley wasn’t in the habit of thanking people, so she offered the boy a slight curtsey. The chef called the boy over as she left. Apparently, bonding over some gingerbread did wonders for a budding mentorship. 

All in all, she was pleased with the taste of her first baking attempt. Now, she got to fret about cutting it into a shape the angel would appreciate. She had an idea or two, but her lack of artistic talent would restrict those options. Best to keep it simple. Maybe something from the very beginning. She sauntered through the halls, heading for the orchard to do some hands-on research. 

*

Crowley wished her spectacles were a bit rounder. No amount of powder could hide the telltale half moons of exhaustion under her eyes. Turned out, boiling honey took entirely too long to cool completely. Once she found a knife sharp enough to adequately sculpt the gingerbread, it was already dark out. She wasn’t completely happy with the result, but she’d miracled a bit of gold leaf for the accents to compensate.

In the dark hole where her heart would be if she was human, Crowley knew she could present Aziraphale with literally a dusting of crumbs and he’d reward her with a smile. She reminded herself of this as she wrapped the gingerbread in paper and set a haphazardly tied string bow in the center. She reminded herself again before she finally got to bed. And once more when she woke up the morning of the joust. She was sure she was exuding a calm confidence when she summoned her handmaidens to help her with her hair and clothing for the day. 

The girls, Hannah and Ada, exchanged looks as soon as they entered. Both were around Lady Antonia enough to know about Sir Aziraphale. They’d spent countless evenings over nipped glasses of wine from the cellars discussing when the knight would finally start courting their mistress. Lady Antonia always carried herself with a certain aloof saunter, but when it came to the knight, they could see right through her. They knew just what to expect when they walked in that morning. 

Lady Antonia didn’t fret, but she was clearly in as much of a state as she allowed herself to twist into. She was seated in front of her mirror, alternating between running her fingers through her hair and staring into her open armoire. 

Hannah spoke up first. ‘My lady, would you like one of the heavier frocks?’ Crowley hadn’t noticed them when they entered and violently spun in her chair so hard that she nearly toppled over. 

Ada managed to stifle her giggle, while Hannah plowed onward. ‘Thought you heard us come in. Apologies, ma’am.’

‘Not necessary,’ Crowley all but shouted. She cleared her throat and modulated her tone. ‘Just….er….went away for a bit there.’

‘Has nothing to do with the joust,’ Hannah said. She couldn’t help herself. 

Crowley squinted behind her glasses before pointing at her handmaiden. ‘You’re lucky you’re one of the only people in this country that can tame my hair properly, girl.’ 

To the untrained eye, the lady of the house would appear to be furious. Hannah and Ada had lived and worked with Lady Crowley for many years. Both saw the slight tug at her cheek as she favored them with a nearly invisible smirk. 

‘We both count our blessings.’

‘Curses, more like,’ Crowley shot back. ‘Alright. Come in. Day’s wasting away while you two dither at the door.’

Hannah and Ada sprung into action; Hannah taking her place behind Crowley, and Ada losing herself in the open armoire. 

‘Autumn seems to finally be settling in,’ Ada said. She was a bit muffled by the dresses. ‘I do think Hannah was right in suggesting something a bit heavier.’

‘We’ll keep your hair mostly down as well,’ Hannah said as she reached for a comb and began sorting out Crowley’s hair. ‘But perhaps we can braid here and here, then pull them back so Sir Aziraphale can see your face.’

Either she was growing soft or just very bad at certain facets of being a demon, but Crowley loved the jibbing from her handmaids. Any other demon would have smote a human for suggesting they had feelings. 

‘Oh, will he be competing?’

Ada giggled from in the armoire. 

‘Did you make that gingerbread for us then?’ 

Crowley eyed the lumpy package on her dressing table. ‘I believe only a select few are worthy of my rare attempts at baking. Keep it up, and you two will be purged from that list.’

Ada emerged from the armoire with an armful of dresses, all in various shades of black. Some were embroidered along the hems with small serpents in the colors of Crowley’s house. Others were simpler, but made from the richest fabrics with a bit of artful draping. Each fit Crowley as if the tailor took every measurement possible and spent painstaking months constructing each garment. Crowley, of course, had simply snapped her fingers and fill her wardrobe. 

Combing done, Hannah pulled open a drawer and set a handful of pins out. She sectioned Crowley’s hair and started in on the braids. 

‘We’re not planning on a veil?’

‘No veil today,’ Crowley said. The angel had cast many lingering looks at her hair over the centuries they’d known each other. Today was about gifts for the angel. She wasn’t about to hide anything from him. 

(Ngk. She really had to stop with those lines of thought. It was a simple gift. Didn’t mean anything else. Not. A. Thing.)

(Right. Just keep repeating that, and it will surely become true.) 

‘No veils or caps, then,’ Ada repeated. She took to laying out a few options on the bed before diving back into the cavern of outfits to find some hose and slippers to match. 

‘Should we have an few options set out for your return home,’ Hannah asked. She didn’t bother to make it sound innocent. One of her favorite parts of her job was getting her lady worked into a tizzy over her knight. 

‘No doubt there’s a feast after the joust,’ Crowley said, gamely taking the obvious innuendo for the bait it was. ‘Good Sir Aziraphale is never one to deny himself a feast.’

‘But what a grand feast it would be if it were here and just the two of you.’ Hannah said, pinning one of the finished braids in place and starting on the other side. ‘Imagine what sweets you could provide him.’

‘Had you been planning that jape since his last visit,’ Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘All my japes have been carefully curated, my lady,’ Hannah smiled. ‘Only the best for you.’

They continued their banter as Hannah finished up Crowley’s hair. She had pulled both braids back and twisted them into a loose bun. Crowley peered at her reflection and nodded approvingly.   
Ada stepped back from the bed and waved her hand at the outfits she laid out. Crowley stepped up next to her and ran her discerning gaze over each of them. She paused over a black velvet frock with sleeves that stopped at the elbows. A red chemise with billowing, long sleeves went underneath. A gold belt wrapped low on the hips, and Ada had selected gold slippers and a simple necklace shaped like a serpent eating its tail.

‘That looks fashionable yet practically warm.’

‘That was my favorite too,’ Ada smiled. 

Crowley untied her dressing gown, and Hannah pulled it off her shoulders. Ada helped Crowley into the chemise and then the dress. Crowley pulled out the chemise’s sleeves as Ada fastened the belt. Hannah took the necklace and placed it around Crowley’s neck. 

‘Perfection,’ Hannah sighed. 

Ada nodded, coming up to stand beside Hannah. ‘He’s going to love it.’

There was that pesky word again. Crowley felt the tips of her ears heat, but she threw on her most confident smile. 

‘I should be off. Don’t want to miss the festivities.’ 

Ada crossed to the dressing table and handed Crowley the package. ‘Don’t want to forget this.’

‘Would be foolish to wander over without the main course, eh?’

The ladies giggled, only to be interrupted by a frantic knocking at the door.

‘Enter,’ Crowley ordered.

The door pushed open, and Crispin appeared. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d just sprinted up the stairs. Crowley would have to be blind to miss the excited glint in his eye.

‘Little excited, my future chef?’

Crispin put his head between his knees as he composed himself. He straighten up to his full height and smiled wildly.

‘My lady, Sir Aziraphale awaits you in the parlor!’

Very rarely has Crowley been stunned into silence. She shouldn’t be surprised. It would be a bit odd if the angel didn’t pop by. In her excitement to bake him a little something, Crowley had forgotten to take that into account. Perhaps this would be better. Her household would no doubt be peaking in, but they took any interaction she had with the angel as a clear step towards their human aliases spending the rest of their natural lives together. 

It’s another one of those moments where she’d been quiet for entirely too long. Hannah and Ada shared a knowing glance, and Crispin was practically vibrating with excitement. 

Lady Antonia Crowley took a deep breath, reminded herself that she was a demon with nearly six thousand years of wiling behind her, and sauntered passed her servants. She loosely held the package to her chest as she headed for the parlor. 

Her mind was strangely blank as she moved through the halls. She felt floaty, as if her feet hadn’t been touching the ground. The door to the parlor loomed at the end of the dark hall. She could sense the heavenly presence glowing from beneath the door. She couldn’t linger. The angel on the other side could no doubt feel her demonic tinge too. 

She snapped her fingers and the door swung open as she approached. She hid the package behind her back and sashayed into the light. 

‘Shouldn’t you be doing whatever the heaven it is that good knights do before tempting fate in a joust,’ Crowley said. She coquettishly glanced away before raising her eyes to meet the angel’s. She stopped short when she saw the look on his face. 

‘My dear,’ Aziraphale gasped. 

Crowley swallowed hard. It hadn’t seemed like a long time since she’d last laid eyes on the angel, but she hadn’t allowed herself to scratch the surface of her stupid feelings with any sort of honesty until recently. Time apart was going to be much more inconvenient going forward. 

Aziraphale looked as soft and welcoming as always. He had a preternatural skill at finding the best lighting in any room he inhabited. The daylight shimmered behind him, glittering with a suggestion of wings. His hair shined like a halo no matter where he stood. He wore a modest tunic and hose. His armor would be waiting for him in his private tent at the tourney grounds.

The moment stretched as they took each other in. 

‘Good to see you, angel,’ Crowley said with a hint of a smile. 

‘And you,’ Aziraphale said. ‘I apologize for barging in unannounced. I know the neighbors will gossip.’

‘Nothing to worry about there,’ Crowley waved her hand through the air dismissively. ‘A horse shits in the road, and they’ll talk about for weeks. But I’m surprised to see you before the joust. Wasn’t joking about stretches or whatever prep work you knights do.’

‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were still in the area,’ the angel’s cheeks flushed with pink. ‘I…I could not find it in myself to compete if certain people wouldn’t be in attendance.’

‘Angel, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were competing just to impress me.’

The pink on Aziraphale’s cheeks bloomed into a full on rosey glow. He sputtered until Crowley crossed the room and placed a hand on the angel’s arm. They both stared at her hand, both seemed just as surprised that it was there. 

The warm feeling exploded again in Crowley’s chest. Now or never. 

‘If that’s the case,’ Crowley started in a gentle, measured tone. ‘We’ll need you in fighting form. I can’t have someone fighting in my name and not playing with a bit of an edge.’ She sighed before holding out the package to Aziraphale. The bow looked a bit droopier than it had upstairs. 

‘’M not the best at gift wrapping, but I didn’t want anyone else touching this. Needed to be completely by me.’ 

She left out the help from Crispin and the chef. A bit of lying was to be expected. She was still a demon after all.

‘Not too clear on the technicalities or formality of it all, so I’ll just have you open it.’

Aziraphale grasped the package with great care. He tugged at the bow and pocketed the string. He found the seam of the wrapping paper and gently ran his finger along it, willing it to slip open. The paper fell but paused mid-air. It folded itself into a neat square before tucking itself into his other pocket. He looked at the large piece of gingerbread before looking back at Crowley.

‘It’s…ah…it’s gingerbread! Shaped…shaped like an apple,’ Crowley explained. She didn’t think a demon’s insides could wither further, but hers were certainly trying. ‘You know…I thought like from the garden. Got a bit of gold leaf there for stem. Didn’t want to go too mental with it. Wanted it to still be edible. Made it all on my own, by the way. Slaved over a hot hearth and everything. Heard that it’s given as a token of…of…of…good luck from ladies to their knights…’

As Crowley rambled, Aziraphale turned the large confection over in his hands. He acted as if he didn’t hear Crowley’s rambling. He was either appalled or completely taken by the gift. Crowley wasn’t about to give him a chance to figure out which. 

‘And ginger is very expensive. Not particularly easy to come by. You’d think—’

‘You made this for me,’ Aziraphale asked, his eyes going a bit wobblily. 

‘Ah…yeah. Yup. Serious baker, me.’

Crowley was not prepared for Aziraphale to surge forward. His free hand came up to cup her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. She gasped against his mouth before melting into him. Her body slid against his like they were made for each other. The gingerbread crumbled a bit between them, but either of them cared. Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s soft, warn tunic and pulled him close as she could. 

‘Safe to say that you like it then?’

Aziraphale laughed wetly. His shoulders wiggled as he did. ‘Of course, my dear. It has been a terribly long time since anyone has gifted me anything. Will you try it with me?’

Crowley nodded. She watched as Aziraphale dithered over breaking the biscuit into pieces. In the quiet, she could sense the warm presence in the hall. No doubt her handmaidens and her future chef were pressed against the door, debating in very loud whispers what each of them had heard. She’d scold them later. In the moment, she found she didn’t mind if a few people bore witness. 

‘Here you are, my dear.’

Snapping back into focus, Crowley clocked the hunk of confection Aziraphale held to her lips. He smiled warmly.

‘The baker should have the first taste.’

‘Doesn’t sound right to me,’ Crowley said. She wrapped her own hand around the angel’s wrist to hold it steady as she took a nibble of the biscuit. ‘But not too bad for a first try.’

‘Oh, don’t be so critical,’ Aziraphale leaned forward and popped the rest of the piece into his mouth. The moment had been worth all the effort. The angel’s eyes closed as he savored the treat. The contented expression, the excited wiggle, and the pleased hum all made an appearance. Crowley felt her eyes water. She blinked the treacherous tears away before Aziraphale came out of his baked good based euphoria. 

‘Scrumptious,’ he sighed. 

‘Should have waited until we were at the tourney,’ Crowley said with a wicked grin. ‘Here I was worried you wouldn’t like it.’

‘My dear, you made it,’ the angel said in a voice so soft it hurt. ‘Of course I was going to like it.’

For a moment, Crowley let herself go all fluttery. She remembered the ridiculous notion of secret ingredients and food as a language of love. She relaxed and let her besotted expression bloom for her angel. Only for a moment, though. She didn’t need him coming away with the opinion that she was nice or anything like that. 

‘Wrap it up then, angel,’ Crowley ordered. She smoothed the front of his tunic and took a step back. ‘You’re needed at the tourney grounds, and I need an escort to my seat.’

Aziraphale smiled in understanding. He snapped his fingers and the gingerbread was back in its wrapping. 

‘A little nibble after the joust,’ He said. ‘I will no doubt be peckish after such an exhibition.’

The angel offered his arm, and the demon took it. Crowley shot a secret grin to the door that had cracked open an inch or two. She could see the eyes glowing in the parlor’s light. With a flick of her finger, the door pushed shut. 

‘By your leave, good sir knight,’ Crowley said. The pair left the house for the joust with love warming them both in the cool autumn air.


End file.
